


Unknown Quantity

by vix_spes



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Seizures, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:45:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9927482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/pseuds/vix_spes
Summary: Bodhi might have escape from the Bor Gullet with his mind mostly intact but he didn't escape completely unscathed.





	

“I’m the … pilot. I’m the pilot!”

They were the words that Bodhi kept repeating over and over again, using them as a mantra. They were the only words that made sense, the only thing that he knew to be the truth. He had known that he was taking a huge risk when Galen asked him to betray the Empire, asked him to carry a message to Saw Gerrera. He had known that, if he was caught by the Empire, and they found out what he was carrying then, at the very least, he would be imprisoned and, at worst, he would be executed. Still, Galen had made a convincing argument and Bodhi, disillusioned with working for the Empire, had been persuaded and willing to take the risk.

What he hadn’t expected was something that, in many respects, was worse than either of the fates that he had envisaged.

Bodhi had known that, when he finally found Saw Gerrera that he’d be treated with suspicion; he’d expected it. After all, they didn’t know him and although he said that he was a defector, they had no way of knowing if he was telling the truth. Even so, he hadn’t anticipated Saw’s actions, the torture that he would inflict upon Bodhi.

The sight of the Bor Gullet moving towards him was to be one that stayed in Bodhi’s nightmares for a long time, as Saw ignored all of Bodhi’s pleas and begging for mercy. ‘Bor Gullet will know the truth’, was what Saw had said. His creature had ripped through Bodhi’s brain with the ease of a light-sabre, causing excruciating pain to Bodhi. He had screamed until his throat was raw as the Bor Gullet tore through his brain, laying bare every thought and feeling that Bodhi had. By the time that Bodhi had been dumped in a locked cell in Saw’s stronghold, ‘I’m the pilot’ was the only thing that Bodhi knew for certain.

It wasn’t that Bodhi had lost his mind – he was lucky that he hadn’t by all accounts – it was just that everything felt as though it wasn’t quite in the right place. He knew that there was a difference between past and present, between recollection and reality but telling you that difference and which one he was in? That was a bit beyond him. Bodhi hadn’t expected to make it out of his prison cell let alone be rescued but he had been, and the familiar feel of the ship beneath his feet and under his fingers had helped to ground Bodhi.

In the days after their escape from Jedha, Bodhi suffered from constant low-level headaches. He ignored them as best as he could; what else could he do? The entire Rebellion was focused on the trip back to Eadu and then the assault on Scarif and really, what would anyone be able to do? They were headaches; they were hardly going to dump him in a bacta tank. And that was if they even had a bacta tank; given that they were on a rebel base, Bodhi thought it was pretty unlikely.

It was just before they left for Scarif that Bodhi started to get the feeling that the headaches were the least of his problems where his torture at Saw’s hands was concerned. Their little group of misfits hadn’t been given specific rooms on the base; there simply wasn’t either the time or the space. The only exception was Cassian, who had space simply by sheer dint of the fact that he’d been with the Rebels for a long time, and who had offered to share it with the rest of them in shifts.

Baze and Chirrut had gone first, seemingly more than happy to share the small space with Bodhi going after them followed by Jyn and then Cassian last, providing that he was released from preparations for the assault with enough time to snatch some rest. However, despite the bone deep exhaustion that he felt, he found himself unable to rest. Instead, he tossed and turned, trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of thoughts in his head. So, it was with more than a little confusion – more so than recently – that he found Jyn crouched in front of him, what looked like concern written all over her face.

“What’s the matter? Has something happened?”

“Bodhi, I should be asking you that. I knocked on the door and called out but you didn’t answer. I came in and you were just staring at nothing.” Jyn hesitated before she spoke again, slightly haltingly as though she were unsure. “This … isn’t the first time this has happened Bodhi. Maybe, maybe you should go and see the medics?”

“It’s fine. I’m just tired; too much going on in my head to sleep properly. Don’t worry about me.”

(~*~)

As it turned out, Jyn had been right to worry. They had just made the atmosphere around Scarif in a feat of daring and skill that even Bodhi couldn’t explain and it had been him that had executed the flight. The low-level pounding in the back of his head that Bodhi had been ignoring in favour of, you know, not dying and not getting his friends killed, suddenly sharpened to excruciating levels and that was the last thing that he remembered. When he was finally aware of himself and his surroundings again, he was no longer in the pilot’s seat but instead laid on the floor with his head on someone’s lap. The calm mutterings clued him into the fact that it was Chirrut whose lap his head was pillowed upon but, when he tried to open his eyes, it sent further pain shooting through his skull and he didn’t try again. Instead, he focused on Chirrut’s mantra and then Jyn’s voice when muted footsteps alerted him to the arrival of someone else.

“Cassian’s flying so your ship is in safe hands.” There was a pause and a deep sigh before Jyn spoke again. “This doesn’t count as fine. You blacked out and started convulsing. It was only Baze’s quick thinking that stopped you from smacking your head on the console. You need to go and see the medics. That isn’t a suggestion now, it’s an order. From Cassian.”

“I promise, I’ll go and see them when I can.”

“You’d better. Even K2 is worried and he’s nothing more than a voice in the computer system until Cassian can find a suitable droid to upload him into.”

~*~

‘When I can’ turned out to be considerably later than Jyn or the others would have liked.

In all of the chaos following the destruction of the Death Star and the Battle of Yavin, Bodhi didn't make it to the medics until they were established on Hoth, despite all of the worried looks and pestering he was getting from his teammates. Considering how hardened they were, they had been fussing as though they were his mother. He’d been lucky. He knows that. Even having flown in the Battle of Yavin as part of Rogue Squadron, he'd only had one more major seizure and it hadn't been while he was flying. Just like the first, he had woken to find his head pillowed in Chirrut's lap, Baze a silent sentry beside him and Cassian and Jyn watching with stony expressions but, if you knew where to look, the concern was visible. When he spoke, Cassian's tone brooked no argument.

"You're going to the medics. Now."

They had all escorted him there, ensuring that he didn't try to avoid the visit, and stood defiant as the medics tried to eject them so they could do their job. In the end, Bodhi had just told the medics to get on with it; if they were going to tell him that he couldn't fly, then he just wanted to get it over with. He had submitted to all of the tests, answered all the questions that he was asked with an air of detachment, trying to steel himself for the verdict. He hadn't been able to make his dream of becoming a Starfighter pilot but he'd still been able to fly; what if he couldn't even do that?

"Well, there's no doubt about what they are. Post-traumatic seizures. You're lucky, Mr Rook. You could have suffered far more extensive brain trauma than you did."

"But what does that mean? Post-traumatic seizures? Am I going to keep getting them? Is there anything I can do?"

"I'm sorry, there isn't. If we had been in a hospital with access to proper supplies, then I may have suggested surgery but even that isn't fool proof; there's as much chance of success as failure."

"But... I'm the pilot." Bodhi's voice sounded weak, even to his ears.

"All I can say is that, usually with cases like this, the majority of the seizures happen in the period directly following the trauma. Beyond that, you may never have another seizure again. Equally, you may continue to have them intermittently. Whatever medical advances we may have made, the brain is still an unknown quantity. I'm sorry I can't give you better news. Please, excuse me."

Bodhi didn’t bother to respond, devastated by the words that had been uttered by the medic. They didn’t know if he’d have any more seizures or not; how could he continue being a pilot? Who’d let him fly now? They wouldn’t even let him be a cargo pilot if there was even the slightest possibility that he could black out and lose control. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he looked up in bleak despair, hating the looks of sympathy that he could see.

“What am I going to do? I’m the pilot. I … I was the pilot? Who will want me as a pilot now?”

“You still _are_ the pilot.” Jyn’s voice was fierce. “My … my mother once told me to ‘trust the force’. The medic said you might not have any more seizures.”

“She also said I might have … there’s no way of knowing.”

“And that is why we have hope. Besides, you’re still our pilot. We’re not giving up one of the best damn pilots in the Rebel Alliance because of a few seizures.”

“Rogue by name, rogue by nature.”

Bodhi risked another glance upwards at the mention of the call sign that he’d coined. This time, instead of sympathy, every single face reflected determination and conviction; that they wouldn’t give up on him because of something that had been out of his control. Straightening his shoulders, he allowed their conviction to bolster his own. Post-traumatic seizures or not, regardless of what the medic had said that the brain was an unknown quantity and they couldn’t really tell him anything, he wasn’t going to let them control him.

After all, he was the pilot.

**Author's Note:**

> If you would prefer to comment on LJ, you can do so [here](http://vix-spes.livejournal.com/274413.html) or on DW [here](https://vix-spes.dreamwidth.org/265317.html)


End file.
